


The Way Old Friends Do

by patchworkofstars



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Based on an ABBA Song, Fics in which very little happens, Food mentions, I love that that's already a tag, M/M, Romance, The Importance of Good Dental Hygiene, The song's not super relevant, but it’s described at great length, it just inspired it, significantly more kissing than the author intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 22:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21399664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchworkofstars/pseuds/patchworkofstars
Summary: They’ve danced this way for years, Roman ever moving like the tide, reaching out and then retreating. Wave after wave he’s poured his attention, his passion onto Logan’s steady shore, only to retreat when it fails to leave a mark.Logan has let Roman’s endless sea wash over him, feigning cool indifference time and again. But in the quiet of his mind it has changed him, this push and pull, this game they play. Slowly, gradually, like the shifting of sand, Roman has stripped away layer upon layer of resistance to reach his deepest heart. And to dwell there at last, warm and undeniable, making himself a home.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 17
Kudos: 54





	The Way Old Friends Do

_You and I can share the silence_  
_Finding comfort together_  
_The way old friends do_  
_And after fights and words of violence_  
_We make up with each other_  
_The way old friends do_

The amber glow of the firelight dances over the scattered remnants of the party, sparking tongues of flame on the cut glass punch bowl at the centre of the table. Long shadows stretch and pool at the edges of the room, and the bunting’s rainbow pennants are drained of their vivid hues.

Logan has eyes for none of this. He sits on the sofa, elbow leaning on the armrest and his chin propped on his hand, his smoke-grey eyes wistful as he watches his only remaining companion.

Roman is picking through the food detritus on the table, nibbling on anything that takes his fancy. He has discarded his elaborate party jacket in the warm room, and the sleeves of his deep red shirt are rolled up above his elbows. Picking up a lone Dorito, left discarded on an otherwise empty platter, he gives it an experimental sniff. Satisfied, he pops it into his mouth and his lips curve into an appreciative smile. Then he turns and winks at Logan, to show he knew all along how closely he was being observed.

Logan’s face flushes at having been caught staring, and he grasps desperately for a verbal life raft to salvage his pride. “I told you there would be food left over”, he says sternly. “There was no need for such excessive purchasing for only eight people.”

Roman throws his head back and groans. “It was a _party_, nerd! There’s _supposed_ to be too much food!” He turns to glare at his companion, rolling his shoulders in an elaborate shrug that seems to ripple down his arms, to be flung loose from his fingertips with a flick of his wrists. “And _besides_, there wouldn’t be so much left if you hadn’t insisted on adding _healthy options_.”

The last is said with the disdain of one who will never touch a salad if there is steak available.

Logan returns his glare with a side of ice, the chill of it seeping into his every word. “I would have expected someone with your enthusiasm for athletic endeavours to be more mindful of his diet, but I guess I overestimated your capacity for logical thought.”

“Well excuse _me_ for wanting to enjoy life a little!” Roman rolls his eyes, Logan’s cool only further stoking the fire in his veins. “Some of us like to have _fun_ at parties! Not that you’d know anything about _that!_”

Logan takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he cages his frustration. “I was only thinking of your health”, he says quietly, his hand trembling with suppressed emotion as he reaches reflexively to adjust his glasses. “I care about you – and the others, of course – and I apologise if I push too far with my suggestions. I will try to be more considerate of our differing tastes.”

Roman’s expression softens, the blaze in his eyes fading to warm embers. For some reason, the gentleness causes an almost painful twisting in Logan’s chest, and he looks away as Roman flops down onto the sofa beside him with a sigh.

Tensing, Logan presses himself into the edge of his seat to put even a little more distance between them. Of course, he’s used to Roman’s company. They live in the same house, after all! But it’s rare for them to be together in such close proximity without one or both of their other housemates present. For the briefest of moments, he contemplates excusing himself and heading upstairs, but…

He glances sideways at the figure sprawled beside him. Roman’s eyes are closed, and the play of firelight and shadows throws his features into deep contrast. He looks so peaceful he could almost be asleep, and Logan has a sudden wild urge to reach out and trace the lines of his jaw and his elegant cheekbones.

He doesn’t realise he’s staring until the man’s lips part and he speaks, thankfully without opening his eyes.

“I care about you, too, I just wish you’d learn to live a little. Lighten up and take some risks.” The brash edge of his earlier voice has gone, softened to a warmth and gentleness that wraps like a blanket around Logan’s heart.

Logan looks quickly away, his face burning. “What kind of risks?” he asks, nervousness harshening his tone more than intended.

Roman waves a hand vaguely. “Eat some cake. Go a day without a necktie. Kiss a cute guy. Whatever makes you happy.”

“_Neckties make me happy_”, Logan says primly, adjusting his.

Roman laughs, opening his eyes and flashing Logan a smile bright with affection. “Cake, then. Choose a flavour and I’ll buy it for you, my treat.”

“Is carrot cake an acceptable option?”

“_Carrot_ cake?! That’s basically a vegetable! Although…” A wicked grin steals across Roman’s lips. “That could be a gateway to the hard stuff, you know. One nibble of carrot cake, and the next thing you know, you could be face-deep in a black forest gateau!”

He gestures wildly with his hand as he speaks, and when it falls it lands on Logan’s, resting in the space between them. The awareness of it sparks a soft buzz in both their minds, but neither makes any attempt to move. The fire crackles and hisses as a log crumbles, whispering of something hidden, something shared.

Logan clears his throat. “If you consider carrot cake too healthy to qualify, I would prefer to pass on the offer. I doubt the alternatives would achieve the desired goal of bringing me happiness.”

“Oh come _on_”, Roman groans. “How about coffee cake? You like coffee!”

“I enjoy the bitterness of coffee, which would be negated by consuming it in cake form. As I’m sure you are aware, I have never been as fond of sweet foods as you are, and even carrot cake contains a large proportion of sugar.”

“So does jam, but you’ve never let that stop you.”

Logan shifts to face him, the firelight glinting on his glasses as he turns, and his eyes turning thundercloud dark as they move into shadow. “Bring me a Crofter’s cake and I will forgive you that remark”, he says sternly.

Roman grins. “Sure thing, Loganberry. I’ll see what I can do.”

They sit for a while, each pretending not to notice the way their hands still lie together, each equally determined not to disturb that fragile connection.

The late hour and the party’s excesses are beginning to catch up to Roman. All that dancing, the karaoke, and the half-hour he spent carrying Patton everywhere after the poor man saw a spider in the kitchen. Logan can see the flame of his energy dimming, like the hearth fire, to a glowing ember ready for sleep.

Slowly his eyes drift closed and he slips sideways, his head falling gently to rest on Logan’s shoulder. Immediately his eyes spring open again and he freezes, waiting with bated breath for Logan’s reaction.

They’ve danced this way for years, Roman ever moving like the tide, reaching out and then retreating. Wave after wave he’s poured his attention, his passion onto Logan’s steady shore, only to draw away when it fails to leave a mark.

Logan has let Roman’s endless sea wash over him, feigning cool indifference time and again. But in the quiet of his mind it has changed him, this push and pull, this game they play. Slowly, gradually, like the shifting of sand, Roman has stripped away layer upon layer of resistance to reach his deepest heart. And to dwell there at last, warm and undeniable, making himself a home.

Perhaps Logan should move. Sit up and stretch, bid a fond goodnight and carry himself to bed. But weariness has settled over him like a blanket and he is so comfortable like this, as though sitting here, with friend’s familiar solid form leaning against him, is the most natural place in the world for him to be. So instead, he closes his eyes, the faintest hint of a smile painting his lips as he turns his hand under Roman’s to intertwine their fingers.

There is a subtle change in the air, a hint of electricity that wasn’t there before. The clouds of sleep are rapidly melting from them both as their heart rates increase. Seizing his courage, Logan turns just enough to softly touch his lips to Roman’s forehead.

It isn’t easy to tell in the soft glow of the firelight, but he could swear that Roman’s face turns a shade pinker.

A moment later, all doubt disappears as Roman raises his head, tilting it as he does so to gently brush his lips against the corner of Logan’s mouth.

Logan misses them the moment they are gone, following them unconsciously and then pressing forward to capture them fully. His face is burning, his skin tingling from head to toe as he pulls away to look into Roman’s eyes, and sees his own longing reflected there.

He tilts his head once more, and this time, Roman leans in with him, meeting for a kiss more lingering but still as sweet as honey.

Their movements are soft and tentative, like the first waves caressing the shore, each drawing back quickly only to return a heartbeat later with a little more strength, testing, tasting, a herald of the turning tide.

At first, Logan is too overwhelmed by new sensations to do more than bask in the ebb and flow of Roman’s kisses, _here_, and _there_, and on every inch of skin they can find. There’s a warm and gentle pressure at the back of his head where Roman’s free hand has moved to cup it protectively, fingers threaded through his hair. But the essence of their relationship has always lain in balance, and Logan is keen to continue that trend with their kisses.

He pulls back, and there’s a squeak of alarm from Roman, who looks up at him with wide, uncertain eyes, afraid that he’s done something wrong. He’s sprawled half in Logan’s lap, his faced flushed and his usually perfect hair in disarray. Logan is distantly aware that he probably looks just as dishevelled, but the thought can’t diminish his satisfaction – bordering on smugness – at the knowledge that _he_ did that, Roman looks like that because of _him_.

He reaches out, letting his desire for neatness and his desire for Roman intersect for once as he runs his fingers gently through the dark curls, restoring them to some semblance of order. At the touch, Roman’s look of fear dissolves and his kiss-swollen lips part in a sigh of mingled relief and bliss.

Logan draws his hand back just far enough to cup the other man’s cheek and smiles. “My turn”, he says simply, and leans in.

Time passes slowly, the moments measured in shared kisses and shared smiles, until Logan at last moves back to catch his breath. The air feels cool against his lips despite the warmth of the room, and meeting Roman’s eyes he couldn’t stop himself from smiling if he wanted to. Roman gives him a lopsided grin in return, unconsciously running a hand through his ruffled hair.

_Preening_, some part of Logan’s mind notes. _Classic courtship behaviour_. His blush, which had been fading, flares up once more.

Roman reaches up to cup his burning face, and Logan slips his arms around Roman’s back, stroking the smooth fabric of his shirt as they gaze at each other, drinking in the view.

“We should talk about this”, murmurs Logan, and soft though his voice is, it’s enough to break the spell.

Roman blinks at him, the thought of conversation bringing his weariness flooding back. “Too sleepy”, he mumbles, lowering his hands to wrap around Logan’s waist and resting his head on the man’s chest. “Gotta sleep for my circ… circa… something rhythm.”

Logan laughs quietly, and watches Roman smile at the gentle rumble of it. Roman’s avoidance of a serious discussion is nothing new, but it’s hard to be annoyed when he’s so pliant and relaxed in Logan’s lap.

“Are you planning to sleep there?” Logan asks, and Roman nods firmly.

“Of course”, he replies, “It’s the comfiest place in the world, fit for a prince, and I’m not moving. Gonna cuddle my nerd.”

“Oh, I’m _your_ nerd now, am I?” comes the gently teasing tone.

Roman raises his head and grins. “Are you going to deny it?” he asks playfully.

Logan sighs and shakes his head. “I guess not. It is a fact, after all. However, we should still discuss the implications of this for the future.” His voice holds an undercurrent of nervousness, not yet fully certain if Roman plans for this new connection of theirs to continue.

“Ugh, not yet, tomorrow will do”, Roman grumbles, shifting to bury his face in the crook of Logan’s neck. “’M too drunk now. I spiked the punch.”

Logan closes his eyes. Roman’s breath against his skin is affecting his heart rate and distracting his mind with an unfamiliar sense of elation. “You spiked the punch with _lemonade_, I am aware of that.” He tries to sound stern, but it’s impossible to keep the affection from his voice. “I am also aware you would never risk upsetting Virgil by adding alcohol. You care about us all more than you let on.”

He reaches to brush a stray lock of Roman’s hair back into place, but the softness of it causes his hand to linger, unwilling to leave it, and he finds himself instead playing gently with the strands.

Roman hums contentedly, snuggling closer. “Same goes for you”, he murmurs. “Who’d have thought Mr Robot would turn out to have so many _feelings?_”

Logan blushes scarlet, but then Roman raises his head, meeting his eyes with a smile that takes his breath away. The logical man has always been a planner, but something about Roman has a way of bypassing his careful organisation and causing spontaneous bursts of pure passion. A hurled insult, a thrown ball of paper, and now… Now, without any forethought, he finds himself leaning forward to close the space between them once more, pressing his lips to Roman’s with a depth of emotion he used to deny he was capable of.

Roman melts into his touch, kissing him back with intoxicating sweetness, wrapping strong arms around him and drawing him deeper, until his thoughts spin and his chest aches with adoration.

At last, Logan leans back, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “I will admit, you were correct in your earlier assertion”, he murmurs. “Kissing an attractive man has improved my happiness considerably. I shall have to do it more often.”

“See?” Roman says triumphantly. “I have great ideas, you should listen to them more often!”

“Perhaps.” A smile plays at Logan’s lips as his eyes grow hazy with reminiscence. “Do you recall our rap battle? What did you call it? ‘Aggressive bouts of beat poetry’? I have always enjoyed our battles of wits, and that in particular is one of my fondest memories.”

Roman shudders in his arms, looking away. “I remember, however hard I’ve tried to forget it.” He scowls. “I suppose you had fun humiliating me like that in front of our friends.”

“What? No!” Logan sits up sharply, staring at his companion. “I didn’t enjoy it because I _won_, although I won’t deny I was highly satisfied with my performance. Roman, I enjoyed it because I relished the opportunity to engage in a contest with you, and to-” He fiddled nervously with his tie. “-To hopefully impress you, although I see now that I left you with a negative impression. I apologise.”

Roman sighs, running his free hand through his hair before turning to give his friend a wry smile. “It’s wasn’t your fault. I was insecure back then.”

“You still are insecure”, Logan can’t help but correct him.

Roman shoots him a glare. “_Fine_, I was even _more_ insecure back then, and for _some reason_ I wanted to show off my creativity to impress a _certain person_.”

“A certain person? Who do you mean?” Logan isn’t stupid. He knows what was implied but he wants to hear it anyway. _Needs_ to hear it, after so many years spent wondering, debating with himself, trying to read the hidden language of someone whose thought processes are so foreign to him.

Roman sighs with exasperation. “I mean _you_, you absolute-” He breaks off, his arm paused in mid-flail as he realises what he’s saying. Face burning, he settles back down, bringing his hand to rest gently against Logan’s cheek. “_You_, you absolutely beautiful man”, he amends softly, each word falling to rest laden with undeniable, unashamed love.

Logan’s pale, freckle-blessed skin turns pink in the firelight glow. The nervous thrill the words burn into him tightens his throat, and he swallows, blush deepening as he watches Roman’s eyes move to follow the motion. He draws a shuddering breath, willing the erratic beating of his heart to steady as he croaks, “You should have told me how you felt.”

The words could be an accusation, were they not saturated with the wistfulness and regret of so many nights spent alone, dreaming of dark eyes and soft curls he thought would be forever beyond his reach.

Roman removes his hand, and Logan is embarrassed by the pout his face falls into at the loss. Thankfully the other man doesn’t seem to notice, distracted once more as he gesticulates wildly. “I did my best to make it clear!” he insists. “Do you think I’d have written a 400-page self-insert fanfic for anyone else?!”

Logan adjusts his glasses, schooling his expression back to something more serious, or at least less lovestruck. “It cannot technically be considered self-insert since you did not include yourself in it. It would be more correct to call it ‘reader-insert’ or ‘Logan-insert’.”

“Oh, come _on!_” Roman groans.

“Semantics aside”, Logan adds quickly, “I greatly appreciated the gesture. And… I still treasure it. It was a thoughtful and generous gift, and the quality of the writing far exceeded my expectations. I am glad you felt inspired to write it.”

He glances up to find his companion watching him, dark eyes sparkling with aching fondness as they reflect the firelight.

“You inspired me”, Roman murmurs. “I wrote you into it because one: I knew you’d enjoy it, and two: it let me write you into every page. You were already in my thoughts all the time, so why not use them to make something great?”

A shiver runs up Logan’s spine at the intensity in Roman’s eyes, and his own flicker closed in anticipation of another kiss. Instead, he feels strong arms tighten around him and the gentle tickle of warm breath against his neck. He sighs contentedly, wrapping his own arms around Roman’s back.

“I was thinking of you too”, he murmurs. “Although I must confess I found no such constructive outlet for those thoughts.”

Roman mumbles a response against his skin, and Logan frowns.

“I apologise but I did not quite catch that. Pleasant though this is, perhaps you should move?”

Roman reluctantly raises his head, but his arms remain firmly wrapped around Logan.

“I don’t want to let go. You’re warm.” He hesitates. “And also… I can’t shake the feeling I could wake up at any moment and find this was all a dream.” He looks away before adding, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Logan ponders this new information, unspoken questions rising in his mind. The knowledge pools in his awareness, like a lens bringing faded scraps of old memories into clearer focus. Memories of Roman unusually subdued at the breakfast table, his eyes wistful and lonely. Of Logan’s halting attempts at sympathy being brushed off with curt insults that struck like icy waves, stealing his breath and flooding his heart with the ache of rejection. Those moments had lingered with him, taken as signs his affection for Roman was unrequited, but now he wonders if they had entirely the opposite cause. Unwarranted harshness that Roman had spat forth in self-protection, not that Logan can blame him.

“Me too”, he mumbles into the softness of Roman’s hair. “If I have been overly critical of your hopes and ambitions, it is because...” He takes a deep breath, the dark strands dancing around his breath as he exhales. “...It is because the plans you shared for your future never included me.”

“I didn’t think you’d want them to. _Do_ you want them to?” Roman finally moves back, pulling away Logan’s soft refuge to meet his eyes with dawning hope and wonder.

Exposed once more to his eyes, his smile, Logan flushes. He opens his mouth to reply, but the words are scrambled in his brain and his heart is pounding so hard he isn’t sure his throat will work. Instead, he nods, swallowing hard before the power of speech returns to him.

“I would… like that. Very much”, he haltingly confesses. “For our futures to be… shared. Together.”

Roman kisses his cheek. “I’d like that too”, he agrees. “The two of us searching for a happily ever after.”

“Happily ever afters do not exist, Roman. Life will always have a share of sadness to balance the joy.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean we can’t work to make the good times outweigh the bad. And even the bad times will be better if we’re together.”

“Indeed.” Logan sighs contentedly, leaning back against the sofa and extricating an arm from Roman to adjust his necktie. It is, he muses, probably the straightest thing in the room, and he says as much to Roman, who buries his head in Logan’s chest and shakes with silent laughter. They’re both more than a little giddy at this point from the heady combination of tiredness and exhilaration, and Logan’s thoughts are drifting more and more to what tomorrow might bring.

“What are we going to tell Patton and Virgil?” he asks. “While they can be unobservant at times, there is no way they will fail to notice the change in our interactions.”

Roman grins, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, they’ve been dropping hints about us for ages. They’ll be delighted!”

“They will be insufferably smug.”

“That too!”

Logan sighs. “So, should we tell them, or would you prefer to let them deduce it from our behaviour?”

Roman’s grin widens and his eyes shine with mischief. “We could make a scene! I could carry you down to breakfast and kiss you in the middle of the kitchen...” He pauses, gazing dreamily ahead. “Or we could feed each other spoonfuls of Crofter’s across the table. They’d soon get the message.”

Logan shudders at the mental image. Not that he wouldn’t have relished every berry-sweet taste of jam that blessed his tongue, but Roman’s plan – as with many of Roman’s plans – involves displays of affection far too dramatic and public for his liking.

He shakes his head. “You are ridiculous”, he murmurs, but there’s nothing by affection in his voice.

“I am _not_. I’m _passionate_, and I want to show everyone how I feel!”

“Telling them would be perfectly sufficient.

“But imagine the looks on their faces if I dip you in the middle of the kitchen!”

“I refuse to-” Logan breaks off, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Roman. “Are you being deliberately aggravating?”

Roman tries and fails to hide a smirk. “Maybe~”

Logan sighs, rubbing a hand over his face as though to scrub away his tiredness. “Roman, do you _enjoy_ arguing?”

“Only with you, if that’s what you’re worried about!” He runs the back of a short fingernail up Logan’s arm, just firmly enough to tickle through his shirt.

Logan tries to suppress the shiver that runs through him, his skin flaring to life once more at even that gentle touch. “Gratifying though that may be, it was not my concern.” He swallows, willing the hoarseness from his voice. “How many times have you disagreed with me simply for the sake of it? And will you still want a… a relationship with me, if we argue less often and agree more?”

Roman looks down, watching his hand as it strokes back down Logan’s arm to soothe the concealed goosebumps. “I only do it because when we argue, all your attention is focused on me”, he admits. He looks back up, the glint of mischief still in his eyes. “And hot as you are when you’re angry, kissing you is a much more fun way to get that attention. I’ll gladly switch tactics.”

A knot in Logan’s chest relaxes, sending a soft wave of warmth spreading through him. “I shall bear that in mind”, he says.

Roman yawns, snuggling sleepily against his shoulder, and Logan sighs affectionately.

“We are going to have to move, you know”, he murmurs, tilting his head so the soft breath of his words sways the tousled curls. “Sleeping here would be detrimental to our circadian rhythms and prohibit full muscular relaxation.”

“Nguh?”Roman raises his head just enough to peer drowsily at him through sleep-bleary eyes.

Another surge of warmth blooms in Logan’s chest at the sight, and he gazes back with a depth of love beyond concealment. “If you stay like that too long, you will hurt your neck”, he explains kindly. “Delightful though this position is, I would prefer for you not to be in pain tomorrow. I suggest we adjourn to bed.”

“Bed?” Roman’s eyes widen in delight. “_You’re_ trying to get _me_ into _bed?_”

“To sleep! Because we’re tired!” Logan’s face is burning. The possible insinuation hadn’t occurred to his tired brain, and now there’s a roiling inside him that can’t decide if it wants to charge unfettered over that particular cliff tonight. He steels himself. Even after all this time, there is such a thing as moving too fast.

Roman winks. “All right, my _Solanum lycopersicum_. See? I do learn things from you!” With a yawn he stands and stretches, making a slow display of flexing the stiffness from his toned muscles. He flashes Logan a dazzling grin, then turns away, kneeling before the fireplace to safely extinguish the low flames still flickering and licking over the charred logs.

The space beside Logan on the sofa seems bereft, mourning the loss of Roman’s warm and solid presence. Still… Logan watches the dark curve of his back, the hint of muscles shifting and flexing beneath the soft fabric of his shirt. It seems lazy, almost decadent, to watch idly as the other man does all the work, but for once he is too drowsily content to care. A second person would only complicate the task anyway. Far more logical to simply enjoy the view.

Roman hums as he works, just as he hums while doing most things. Once, Logan found it irritating, but the years have slowly turned it from an intrusion into soothing background music, a sign that all is well in both their lives. Habitual as Roman’s humming is, it is also a sign he is relaxed and happy, which in turn lifts Logan’s spirits.

Logan’s face relaxes into a fond smile and he leans back, resting his head against the sofa’s firm padding and watching with heavy-lidded eyes as Roman replaces the fire screen and stands up, switching on a dim lamp to dispel the darkness that descended with the loss of the fire. Turning back blinking to face the room, he stretches his arms extravagantly before rolling his shoulders to loosen the knots of tiredness gathered there.

Logan couldn’t look away if he wanted to. His eyes follow each motion, his mind mapping the locations of _biceps, triceps, deltoids, pectorals_ barely concealed beneath the soft veil of Roman’s shirt, even as a less scientific part of his brain wordlessly yearns to reach out and touch.

Roman catches him staring and grins, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Are you _sure_ you want to go and sleep in your cold, lonely bed?” he asks teasingly.

Logan pushes up his glasses, his impassive expression betrayed by the lingering pink flush still staining his cheeks. “It won’t be cold and lonely if you are in it with me”, he suggests.

Roman’s face lights up with a glow that could have outshone the hearth fire. “Can I?”

“You can and you may.”

“Just to sleep though, right?”

Logan clears his throat. “I would also consider some non-sexual physical intimacy agreeable.”

Roman’s grin remoulds into a smirk. “You mean you want to cuddle?”

Logan’s blush deepens and he reflexively looks away, then forces himself to meet Roman’s eyes once more. “If you wish to phrase it that way”, he replies. “I cannot deny that it sounds a pleasant way to fall asleep.”

The smirk shifts again into something soft and knowing, and Roman offers his hand to help Logan stand.

Logan accepts it and starts to rise, but after so long seated in one position his tired knees betray him and he stumbles, the momentum carrying him forward to fall heavily into Roman’s arms.

Heat flares in his face and surges through his body in a rush, embarrassment and unexpected intimacy temporarily overwhelming his brain. “I did not intend to do that”, he insists, his voice muffled against the taller man’s shirt. “Stupid physical limitations.”

He can _hear_ the smugness when Roman says, “Well, if your legs won’t carry you to bed, maybe _I_ should.”

_Curse him for making that seem an attractive prospect._

Logan pulls away, correcting his posture and adjusting his glasses from where they were pressed awkwardly against his face. “Unnecessary; I am perfectly capable of ascending the stairs without your assistance.”

Roman huffs. “You said you were too tired for ‘further exertions’! And if I carry you, you’ll get the added bonus of being held by me all the way!”

“Walking to my bedroom is hardly comparable to… what you were suggesting. Besides which, you were almost asleep yourself not long ago. There is a significant risk you could overestimate your capabilities and drop me!”

Roman flushes, spluttering indignantly. “I would _not_ drop you!” he almost shouts. “I would _never_ risk dropping the most important person in my life! I would hold you like the rarest and most precious treasure, protecting your safety even if it took everything I had!” His voice cracks, raw emotion spilling out in a surge of tired and frustrated love. “Why won’t you stop _arguing_ and let me _help_ you?!”

“_I’m_ arguing?! You are the one who-” Logan breaks off abruptly and stands blinking for a moment as he processes Roman’s words. Then the cold steel of his eyes melts once more and he softens, a smile tugging at his lips. With a sigh, he lets his shoulders fall as his tension drains away.

“Habit, I guess”, he says wryly, reaching up to cup Roman’s cheek. “Arguing over the best way to go upstairs together to ‘cuddle’ must be the most ridiculous row we have ever had. If a relationship between us is to work, we will need to learn to compromise, at least in matters like this.”

Roman closes his eyes, the fire of anger in his veins dying away to the warmth of glowing embers. “I want it to work more than anything in the world”, he murmurs. He opens his eyes to meet Logan’s, chasm dark, ocean deep, and filled with years’-worth of longing for something now so tantalising close at hand. “I don’t want to argue, I just… I just don’t want to let go of you. I’ve waited so long to even get to hold your hand!”

“Then that is what we will do”, Logan says gently, taking his hand and interlacing their fingers. “A compromise that satisfies us both. With sufficient cooperation, we can walk upstairs to the bathroom and brush our teeth while holding hands.”

“Brush our teeth”, Roman repeats. “Are you _serious?_ Why can’t we just go to bed?!”

“Good dental hygiene is important”, Logan tells him calmly. “If I am going to kiss you, I would prefer that you take appropriate steps to combat bacterial-”

“I get it!” Roman interrupts, his free arm flailing wildly. “But you were eager enough to kiss me five minutes ago!”

“Kissing you now is delightful but I am thinking ahead to tomorrow, when I will wake to find you beside me, sleep-touselled in the soft-gold light of morning. I will gaze at you captivated, recalling the events of tonight through a sleepy, dreamlike haze and wondering if any of it truly occurred. If not for your presence, warm and real by my side, I would think it another hopeless fantasy. As I watch, your eyelids might flutter gently open and your dark, still-drowsy eyes meet mine, a gentle smile blessing your lips, softer and warmer than the comforter. Drawn by a force stronger than gravity, beyond mere magnetism, I will slowly lean down to meet them with my own… and I would appreciate it if your morning breath is no worse than it has to be.”

Roman’s mouth falls open, and Logan watches as his stunned silence yields to an expression of growing wonder and gasps of “You-! That was-! I can’t believe-!”

Speech proving beyond him, he abandons it in favour of action. With his free hand, he reaches to gently but firmly cup the back of Logan’s head as he kisses him with a sonnet’s-worth of passion.

Logan’s weary legs feel like they could give way beneath him, but then Roman steps back with a deep breath and a still-shocked grin.

“That was _magnificent!_” he gushes. “_You_ are magnificent. I’d never have believed you could come up with something so romantic!”

Logan adjusts his tie, smirking despite the deep flush of his cheeks and the tremble of his hand still tightly clutching Roman’s. “I have an appreciation for poetry. For the shaping of language into literature. It is something I learned from you.”

Roman smiles, raising their clasped hands to press a firm, adoring kiss to Logan’s knuckles. “For you, I would brush my teeth a thousand times”, he vows.

Logan sighs, exasperated but oh-so-fond. “Unnecessary, and frankly unhealthy”, he replies. “Twice a day will be perfectly sufficient.”

Roman grins, his dark eyes bright with something Logan can’t classify, can’t define, but that floods his heart with yet another wave of Roman’s warmth. He sways slightly, weary legs faltering once more, but then Roman’s arm is around his waist steadying him, while their clasped hands are pressed to Roman’s broad chest and five words, softly spoken, flow through to crest in his soul.

“Anything for you, my love.”

_Love._ The word turns cartwheels in Logan’s chest and for a moment he can’t speak, his heart pounding like the crashing of surf. There is, he decides, only one rational response. “I love you too”, he says simply, pulling Roman in firmly to seal the words with a kiss. He can feel the other man’s smile against his own lips, an unnecessary reassurance perhaps, but welcome nonetheless. Did he ever doubt that Roman loved him? He won’t after tonight.

He raises their hands, meeting Roman’s eyes with a wry smile. “You realise it will be a challenge to make this work”, he says, and they both know he doesn’t only mean literally, physically, tonight.

“Worth it, though”, Roman replies, pressing a fond kiss to his cheek. “More than worth it.”

They go step by step, hand in hand, bickering amicably as they climb the stairway into the next stage of their lives. The stars shine in through the window of Logan’s room tonight, the same stars they each gazed at so many times when their beds felt too empty and their harsh words too final. Now those distant suns will watch over them as they slip into bed side by side, sharing shy smiles and affectionate banter. As Logan places his glasses in their customary spot on his nightstand, and leans in for one last brief kiss before settling into Roman’s embrace.

And as they drift off to sleep together, lulled by the sound of each other’s breathing, like the soft murmur of the incoming tide caressing the shore at last.

_Times of joy and times of sorrow_  
_We will always see it through_  
_Oh, I don't care what comes tomorrow_  
_We can face it together_  
_The way old friends do_


End file.
